


moments

by crytalstellar



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Fluff, More tags to be added, Multi, Original Character(s), Reader Insert, Romance, Slife of life, kitchen smut, not all fics will be reader insert and will be marked as such
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-18 18:32:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crytalstellar/pseuds/crytalstellar
Summary: a collection of works for saeran choi week 2018 on tumblr.





	1. weird day (prompt: art, reader insert)

Today has been a weird day.

To start things off, Saeran appears to be in a good mood. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just… weird. You’d been nervous when he showed up at your door sometime before noon. Normally, when he comes by it’s during the late afternoon or early evening, but for some reason or another he hasn’t come by the past couple days. The unexplained absence coupled with the untimely visit seemed foreboding of a very bad day with a very angry Saeran, but so far he’s been more amicable that he’s been in a long while. You could almost say that he seems happy to see you… or perhaps he’s happy because he didn’t have to see you. Whatever the reason though, a happy Saeran is far better than an angry one.

When he brings you to his workroom, you immediately begin tidying up. According to him, it is one of the few things you’re good for. Backhanded compliment aside, you find that you don’t really mind cleaning his trash. When most of your time is spent locked in your room doing nothing, you’re glad to be given something to do.

As you go, you wonder if, during the time you hadn’t seen him, he’d been in here working. It’s far messier than you remember it being the last time you were here. It’s a complete mystery to you how someone who spends almost their entire time at a computer desk can make a mess of the rest of the room.

Amidst the empty candy wrappers strewn all across the floor, you find something that seems a little out of place: a notebook. You pick it up and a loose sheet of paper slips out and flutters to the ground. Automatically, you bend down to pick it up, but it almost tumbles from your grasp when you catch sight of what’s on it.

It’s a picture, a drawing really, of someone sleeping peacefully. Just looking at it gives you a sense for how much the artist cares for the subject. Each line looks so clean, but still you can see little smudges on the page, evidence that the person had drawn over and over in an attempt to achieve perfection. But what gets you isn’t the amount of effort and devotion the artist put into the picture, but the identity of the subject.

It’s you.

Dumbfounded, you stare at your image on the paper. Did Saeran draw this? You didn’t know he could draw. Maybe someone else drew this. But if that’s the case, then who? You shake your head. No. It had to be Saeran. The notebook wouldn’t be here if it was anyone else. But if Saeran really did draw this then why? Why would he draw you?

Your eyes shift to the notebook in your other hand. The paper came from this book. Could it be possible that there are more drawings like it hidden within? Curiosity eats at you as you stare at the notebook. If it really is Saeran’s sketchbook, you really shouldn’t look inside, especially since there could be unpleasant repercussions for doing so.

You glance over at Saeran, who appears to be totally engrossed in whatever he’s doing at the computer. His lack of attention strengthens your curiosity enough to surpass the fear of what might happen to you if he sees. One quick peek is all you need. Quietly, you crack open the book, and flip through the pages. Just as you suspected, it’s filled various drawings and each and every one of them is of you. There are a few sketches of you doing various things like eating and sleeping, but a lot of them are of you sitting somewhere with a sad, vacant look on your face. The sight of those pictures makes your chest feel tight. Is this really how you look to Saeran? Pathetic and lonely?

There are other drawings where it looks like you’re smiling, but nearly all of them are crossed out and scribbled over. The thought that even drawings of your smiling face manage to disgust Saeran makes your heart drop. However, when you look more closely, it doesn’t seem like they’re scratched over out of hatred, but because he was dissatisfied with the way the image came out. A little voice in your head whispers in your head. Maybe he drew these because he wanted to see your smile. Maybe he couldn’t get it right, but didn’t want to erase his failed attempts. Maybe he couldn’t do it because it was you.

You bite your lip to bring yourself back to reality. You shouldn’t hope. It’s dangerous to hope in this situation. But it’s also the only thing keeping you sane.

Finally, you reach the end of the sketchbook where you find an image different from all the rest. Like the others, it is a picture of you. But it’s not just you; Saeran is in the picture too. The both of you are holding one another, gazing into each other’s eyes with soft, loving expressions. Looking at this one picture perplexes you more than every other image you’ve seen so far. Every other picture is something Saeran could have seen at some point or another, but this… The scene in this picture could only have been produced by Saeran’s own imagination. Why does this picture exist? Why did he draw it?

Your heart races as that little voice in your head grasps desperately for an explanation. He drew it because he wanted to see it. He wants to hold you. He wants to-

“What are you doing?!” A loud, angry voice rips you from your thoughts. You look up in its direction to see a livid looking Saeran stalking toward you. He must have turned around while you were preoccupied.

“I…” You clutch the notebook to your chest and back away from him. All too soon your back hits the wall and he corners you like a beast ready to pounce.

“Did you see?!” he demands in a thunderous roar.

There’s no denying it at this point so all you can do is just timidly nod your head. Oh, you’re in for it now. You brace yourself for the punishment you’re undoubtedly about to receive. Most of the verbal lashings you receive from Saeran are underserved in your opinion, but this time, you do think that he has the right: you did look in his sketchbook without permission.

“You uncivilized piece of shit!” Saeran screeches. “How dare you go through my things!”

“I’m sorry!” you say as soon as he takes a breath. “I… I couldn’t help it…”

“Who gave you permission to talk?” Saeran howls as he towers menacingly over you.

You hang your head in apology, “...I’m so sorry… Please don’t yell… I was wrong… I was an idiot. I never should have looked inside...”

Saeran doesn’t respond. Slowly, you peek up at him and he still looks mildly displeased, but also seems oddly satisfied with this much of an apology. He yanks the sketch book out of your grasp before whirling around to head back to his desk. It must be a really weird day. Normally doing something of this magnitude would elicit a far more enraged response from him. As he walks away, you mutter to yourself, “...were those drawings… really of me?”

Saeran stops short and you freeze. Oh crap. Did he hear you? He spins around to face you, his face contorted in frustration as he grounds out, “What. Did. You. Just. Say?”

“Ah…” You turn your head away as he rushes back toward you.

“Say it again.” When you don’t, he repeats, in a much louder tone. “Say it!”

“...those pictures… are they really of me…?” you whisper softly.

“Do you not have eyes!?” Saeran yells. “Of cour-!!”

He suddenly goes silent. Hesitantly, you look back at him, and nearly gasp at the sight before you. For the first time, Saeran doesn’t really look red with anger but with… embarrassment. His gaze is averted as the red in his cheeks grows brighter and brighter.

At this point it’s obvious, despite his attempt to stop himself, that the images are of you. Before you can think to stop yourself, you ask, “Why?”

Saeran suddenly looks back at you. His mouth opens and closes as if he’s trying to answer, but the words he wants to say won’t come out the way he wants them to, “You… you…”

You stare, waiting for him to answer.

“You’re a fucking idiot!” he screams, throwing the sketch book in your direction. It whacks you in the chest and falls to the ground as he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

You stare at the door, then back at the book at your feet.

Today is a very weird day indeed.


	2. possibilities (prompt: school life, reader insert)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place after ray's route.
> 
> it feels kinda cliche and cheesy imo but. /shrugs

“You want to go school?”

Saeran nods shyly, carefully watching your face to gauge your reaction. He’s been nervous all day thinking about how you would react. Knowing you, you would be supportive, just like always. Despite that there was still the sliver of doubt, of fear that you might not think it’s a good idea. When you don’t say anything right away, Saeran starts to explain himself further in hopes of garnering a favorable reaction, “The only thing I really know is how to hack… And… “

He trails off, but you seem to realize what he was getting at, “You don’t want to have to do that if you don’t have to, right?”

Saeran nods his head, glad that you understand, “I… want to try other things now that I have the freedom to choose.”

“I see!” you clap your hands together cheerfully. “Well, if that’s what you want to do Saeran, you know that I’m all for it!”

The muscles in Saeran’s shoulders relax, tension seeping out of them when he hears your full approval. He figured as much, but actually hearing the approval makes him feel relieved.

“Do you know where you want to go? Or what you want to do?”

Saeran’s eyes widen and he lowers his head, feeling a little ashamed. He has some ideas of things he’d like to try, but he isn’t really sure if they’re things he wants to do with his life. There are just so many possibilities that it’s hard for him to narrow them down.

You immediately notice this and wrap your arms around him, “If you don’t know, that’s okay. Not everyone knows exactly what they want to do off the bat. Hell, I don’t even completely know what I want to do with my life.”

Saeran lifts his arms to reciprocate the hug. He’s glad to know that he’s not the only one who isn’t sure.

“Oh, but there is one thing I do know,” you add, your voice light, amused.

“Mm?”

“I know that I want to always be with you.”


	3. recipe for disaster (prompt: domesticity, reader insert, NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAHHH!!!! so this is actually a collab piece between me and jozstanko-art on tumblr! they drew an accompanying piece which you can view [here](http://kirachama.tumblr.com/post/174701374961/recipe-for-disaster-saeran-x-reader-nsfw). this piece does contain smut!

Making dinner with Saeran in order to further your nearly nonexistent cooking skills seemed like a good idea.

Or at least it did in conception.

There’s no denying the whole mental image of it is most certainly a good one. Just imagining going to the store together and cooking together is enough to send you straight to cloud nine. Unfortunately, as you soon find, there’s a stark difference between your imagination and reality. Each item Saeran adds to the grocery basket weighs you down, dragging you back to real world.

Finally, you bring yourself to ask, your voice saturated with concern, “…Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

Saeran looks away from the onion he was examining to face you, “No. Why?”

“Well… uh…” You shift a bit uncomfortably before admitting. “I don’t think I’ll be much help if the recipe is too complicated.”

Saeran holds your gaze, his expression contemplative. Then, he says, in an attempt to soothe you, “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. Did you forget  I said I’d help you? ”

It’s not that you forgot, it’s just that you’re worried. You have a bit of a tendency to screw up a lot when it comes to cooking. From mixing up salt and sugar, to setting things aflame, you’ve done it all. Your abysmal luck and equally bad cooking skills are the perfect recipe for disasterrific dinner.  But, then again, Saeran is probably one of the best cooks you know, so maybe, just maybe he’ll offset all the terrible things you bring to the table and whatever the both of you make will come out somewhat decent.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself through the rest of the shopping trip.

Once you actually get home and start unpacking things your worries start to bubble over again. While you were shopping, Saeran had told you that you were going to make japchae together. You’ve had it before and it’s really just stir fried vegetables and noodles, nothing too complicated. And yet, you feel the anxiety starting to eat at you again as you watch Saeran pull out the vegetables one by one. Does japchae have bell peppers in it? You don’t think you’ve seen them in it before. Though, what you’re really worried about isn’t the ingredients themselves but how many there are of them.

“Couldn’t we have bought pre-cut vegetables?” you grumble, eyeing them as if they’re poisoned.

“Don’t tell me you can’t even use a knife,” Saeran teases you with a snicker.

“I-I can!” you protest. Of course you can use a knife, just not very well. “Just… pre-cut would be easier, don’t you think?”

Saeran merely shrugs, “Maybe, but we already got these, and we’re not going back to the store. It’d be a waste of time.”

You bite your lip. He has a point. Just going back would delay dinner, and you’re already starting to get hungry. Next time, if there is a next time, you’ll have to remember to ask Saeran to buy already prepared vegetables, but for now you’re just going to have to suck it up.

Saeran sets down the last item that was in the shopping bag and strides over to where you’re standing. Your heartbeat stutters as his face draws closer to yours. In a somewhat amused tone, he rehashes what he said earlier at the store, “Don’t be so worried, I already told you it’ll be fine.”

He leans a bit closer like he’s about to kiss you and you close your eyes a little, leaning a tiny bit forward, waiting. But the kiss never comes and in its stead you feel him pinch at your cheek. You whine a tiny bit and open your eyes to glare at him, “What was that?”

He smirks, “You were making a weird face.”

That impish look of his makes it totally obvious that he’s fully aware that you thought he was going to give you a kiss. You pout a little. It’s fine, whatever, you didn’t want that kiss anyway. But you’d like to do something about that smarmy look on his face. While he’s been telling you that he’ll help you, it feels like he’s been teasing you equally as much. You have half a mind for payback, but your stomach lets out a well-timed protest. It seems payback will have wait til after you eat dinner.

“…so what’s first, chef?” you inquire, a bit begrudgingly.

There’s a flash of bewilderment in Saeran’s eyes. He must have been expecting some kind of retaliation, but he doesn’t say anything about it and instead instructs, “First, we need to prep all the ingredients.”

“Right,” you respond flatly, your gaze sliding over to the ominous looking arrangement of vegetables. Time to bite the bullet and cut up those suckers. You walked over to the drawer where you know the knives are kept and pull it open. To your surprise, you find an assortment of them in different shapes and sizes. Is there a specific one that you’re supposed to use, or is just any one okay? You don’t want one that’s too big- it seems like it’d be harder to manage. But some of the much smaller knives seem like a better bet since they look easier to control, but don’t look particularly efficient. It’s probably to go with one of the mid sized knives. You grab one by the handle and pull it out of the drawer. It’s not too big, but not too small. Should be perfect for cutting vegetables.

“What are you doing?”

You turn to Saeran, knife still in hand. Innocently, you answer, “I’m gonna cut the veggies.”

He blinks slowly, then, in a mildly exasperated tone, informs you, “You have to wash them first.”

Now, it’s your turn to be confused. “Wash them? They’re not pre-washed?”

“No.”

“Then what’s with that mini rain shower they have in the produce section of the store?” you inquire, genuinely puzzled. Rain might be putting it a little strongly- it’s more like a concentrated mist, but surely that’s enough water to be considered a ‘wash’ right?

Saeran shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t know. Maybe it keeps them fresh?”

That does make some sense… Vegetables are plants after all. You look at the knife in your hand and place it down on the counter. “I guess I should grab the strainer first then, right?”

“Yeah.”

You turn toward the cabinets and start opening them, looking for a strainer since you’re not entirely sure where that one’s kept. After opening a few, you find it, along with a couple cutting boards. Knowing that you’ll definitely need those too, you pull out two- one for you and one for Saeran. You place your findings on a clear spot on the counter by the stove. Next to you, Saeran puts down a few bowls and a large plate.

“These are for you to put the vegetables on once you’re done cutting,” he explains, and you nod. You reach for the vegetables to put them all in the stainer so you can easily carry them to the sink, but Saeran grabs the onion and garlic before you can get them. You shoot him a confused look and he elaborates, “These ones you don’t need to wash.”

“Oh, okay…” you slowly bob your head up and down. Saeran knows way more about this stuff than you; if he hadn’t said anything you would have just washed everything. You look back at the vegetables, wondering if there’s some special way to wash them. It’s probably a dumb question, but it’s better to ask then potentially destroy one of the ingredients. “Is there anything else I should know…?”

Saeran ponders the answer for a moment before telling you, “Don’t wash the mushrooms for too long- they’ll soak up water. And wash the spinach last so you can just leave it in the strainer until we’re ready to use it.

“Got it.” You grab the rest of the vegetables, pile them into the strainer and then put it on the plate so you have somewhere to put the washed vegetables. You bring everything over to the sink but once you get there you hesitate. Washing vegetables is different from dishes, isn’t it? Using soap seems like a bad idea, but should you scrub them? There isn’t really anything to scrub them with, so using your hands should suffice. Unsure of where to put the unwashed vegetables, you just place the strainer off to the side- you think that pretty much everything except the spinach and can be washed without it.

Since there are a lot of them you decide to start off with the mushrooms. You turn on the faucet and figure it’s probably best to wash them really quickly because of what Saeran said. With one in each hand you quickly run them under the water, wipe the caps with your thumbs, let them drain a little before you deposit them on the plate. Once you’re done with all the mushrooms, you eye the rest and decide to go with the bell pepper next.

When you pick it up, Saeran comes over and grabs some of the mushrooms. You watch as he takes them back to where he’s set up his own cutting board. He grabs a knife that he must have gotten while you were preoccupied with the mushrooms and with a deft hand starts to slice them. You feel a bit of relief knowing that you’re not going to have to cut all of the vegetables and look back at the bell pepper. It’s probably been washed enough so you place it next to the mushrooms Saeran left behind.

The next thing you grab is the carrot. Since it’s longer and thinner than the bell pepper, you decide it’d probably be more efficient to clean the carrot with your entire hand. You wrap your fingers around one section of the carrot and rub your hand over it beneath the faucet.

As you’re washing the carrot, you hear a loud, rapid thumping sound behind you and you turn to see the source of the noise. Saeran’s position has changed, with one hand on the handle and the other against the side opposite the blade. He swiftly minces whatever is on the cutting board, his hand moving faster than it did earlier. You can’t help but be in awe of his knife skills. Maybe one day you can be that good too… He finishes and you catch a whiff of garlic. Perhaps finally sensing that you’re staring, Saeran looks up at you. For a moment, he watches you with a blank expression, but then his face starts to turn a little red for some reason, “Wh-what are you doing?”

You blink, running your closed hand up and down the length of the carrot, “Washing the carrot…?”

Shouldn’t that be obvious though?

Saeran continues to gawk at you, obviously confused and a bit… stunned. Like a deer caught in the headlights as you continue to wash the carrot. Finally, he rips his gaze from yours, his face visibly more red as he mutters, “…I think it’s clean now.”

He’s right; you’ve been working at it for a while. You set the carrot down to attend to the rest of the vegetables. Behind you, Saeran continues to do his portion of prepwork. Like he instructed, you wash the spinach last and leave it in the strainer in the sink. When you’re done, you turn around to see Saeran mixing something in a bowl. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be the meat, garlic and the mushrooms along with some kind of sauce. He stops when everything looks thoroughly mixed and puts the bowl in the fridge.

“Okay, what next?” You hope that whatever it is is just as easy as washing the vegetables was.

“Now we cut them,” he replies with a little smile.

You grimace. After that show of knife skills, you’re even more nervous than you were before. You bring everything but the spinach back to the cutting board. With a sigh, you mentally list off everything that needs to be cut. It’s going to take forever! You look from vegetable to vegetable unsure of which one to start with. Should you go with the hardest one first or start off simple?

“You know, they’re not going to just cut themselves,” Saeran hints, in a somewhat teasing tone.

“I-I know!” you shoot back. You grab the knife in one hand and the onion in the other. For a moment you debate the best way to go about cutting the thing. Since it’s going in a noodle dish, it should probably match it in shape, right? But how should you go about that…?

“Cut it in half first,” Saeran advises as he reaches into the fridge to pull out a pack of eggs you had bought earlier. He takes one out and cracks it over the a bowl before he grabs a whisk and starts to scramble it.

You look back to your onion. Cutting it in half makes sense, you can just lay it on the flat side when you cut it so it’s more stable. You place the onion with the bottom to the cutting board and press the knife against the spot Saeran indicated. It wobbles a little so you hold it with your other hand before bringing the knife all the way down, cutting the onion cleanly in half. Success! You flip it over so that it’s laying flat. Now you just have to cut it into slices. You hold the onion with one hand and aim the knife over the side with the other and run the knife downward. The cut pieces flop over and you examine them. None of them really look like the strips you were going for, but maybe you just need to keep cutting?

Just as you’re about to make the next chop you hear Saeran exclaim, “Wait!”

You pause and look at up at him, “What?”

He walks away from the frying pan and points at the onion, “You should peel the skin off first.”

That makes sense. If you get rid of it from the start, you won’t have to pick it out after. Now that you think of it it seems almost like common sense to peel the skin off first… You slump your shoulders a little, feeling kind of like an idiot for not thinking of it. You start to peel off the skin on the half of the onion you’ve started to cut.

“You should cut off the ends too,” Saeran adds and you nod as you toss the onion skin in the trash.

An odd smell hits your nose and you glance behind Saeran, noticing the stove is still on. That can’t be good. “…Is something burning?”

Saeran whirls around and runs over to it, cursing loudly, “Shit! I forgot to turn it off!”

You put the knife down to take a look at the damage. In the pan kind of looks like a flat, super thin, yellow pancake. It seems fine to you, but Saeran flips it over and it’s nearly charred on the other side. He’d only been away from the stove for a minute at most, it must have burned so quickly since it was so thin… Saeran groans as he tosses out the failed egg and puts the pan down.

You expect him to reach into the fridge for another egg, but he doesn’t so you ask, “You’re not going to make another one?”

“It’s fine,” he answers, looking a bit unconcerned. “It’s just a garnish.”

“…are you sure? We got a ton of eggs from the store earlier.”

Saeran seems to think over what you’ve said before he points out, giving you a flat stare, “But I’ve got to make sure someone doesn’t mess up cutting the vegetables.”

“I’m doing just fine!” you retort. Saeran’s eyebrows quirk upward showing that he has his doubts. Admittedly, he has a right to be doubtful, but you’re not going to tell him that. “Maybe I had a bit of a hiccup, but I can totally handle cutting the rest of these!”

Saeran still looks a bit uncertain, but when he walks over to the fridge you take that as him conceding. It’s nice to know that he doesn’t think you’re entirely a lost cause.

You return to the onion and cut the top and bottom as Saeran instructed before trying to cut more slices. Carefully, you aim the knife, trying to measure the perfect sliver. When you’re satisfied with the size you make the cut. Just like before, you examine your work. Somehow, the knife got misaligned so the onions are a it bit slanted. You frown a tiny bit, but it should be fine. It all goes down the same way anyway. Slowly, you continue to cut the onion into pieces, trying as hard as you can to keep the pieces as straight as possible.

Once you get a little more than halfway, you start to have a bit of trouble. Part of it is because each time you try to make a cut, the onion it gets misaligned so you have to fix it, Not only that, but as you’ve been cutting, you’ve noticed a sharp odor coming from the onion that’s started to make your eyes water. Try as you might to blink back the tears, they just keep coming in a slow stream. You rub your face on your sleeve, trying to wipe some of them away. It works, but not a lot, so you try to cut the onion as quickly as you can.

Saeran comes back over from the stove and uses a spatula to scoop a much yellower looking egg on to his cutting board. You duck your head a bit more, hoping that Saeran won’t notice the onion-induced tears on your face, but of course you aren’t so lucky.

“Hey… what’s with the face?”

You don’t answer him and try to keep cutting the onion, but your eyes are so watery that it’s difficult to see. If you aren’t careful, it’s not going to be just the onion you cut.

“Hey…” Saeran repeats, his tone a little more miffed since you ignored him the first time.

Slowly, you look up at him, and in the most even voice you can muster, you confess, “…I…think it’s the onion.”

He stares at you and then, after a second, he lets out a short bark of laughter.

“Don’t laugh!” you hiss, the tears still streaming down your face. “I can barely see and I can’t make them stop!”

“And you think I can?”

“Maybe if you help!” If he cuts the other half of the onion that’s less onion stench you need to be exposed too. And if you’re lucky, he might even tear up too. That would teach him to make fun of you during your moment of need.

“Fine. I’ll help.”

You blink, “You… will?”

He snickers, “Yeah, I said I would, didn’t I? Besides, if I let you cut everything yourself it’s going to take forever.”

You pout at him. As usual, he has a point, at the rate you’re going it’ll be at least an hour before the prep work is done. You’re doing the best that you can, though! Feeling motivated by his little jab, you set the knife down and lift up the hem of your apron to wipe away your oniony tears. Then, you pick up the knife again and bring it to the onion, swiftly cutting another set of slices.

Saeran shifts next to you, moving away from his cutting board. You figure that he must be going to go get something, but then you feel something warm press up against your back. It could only be Saeran. You nearly drop your knife out of shock and sputter, “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Helping.” He covers your arms and hands with his own and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“How is this helping?” you demand. He should know that this is more than a distraction than anything.

“I’m going to show you how to cut things.”

“What’s wrong with how I was cutting them?” You actually don’t need him to answer that one- you’re fully aware of your shortcomings as a cook, but he answers anyway.

“First off, the way you’re holding the knife is wrong.” Saeran runs his fingers over the hand that’s holding the knife, signaling for you to let it go. You pull your hand back so he can take it from you. “You should wrap your index finger and thumb around the base of the actual knife.”

He demonstrates what he means and you nod slowly. Saeran drops the knife and you pick it back up again, mimicking the hand position he showed you, “Like this?”

“Yup.”

“The way you position the other hand is weird too- you’re just begging to get your fingers chopped off like that.” Saeran lifts his other hand up and and curves his fingers in just slightly like he’s holding some invisible ball. “Your hand should be like this.”

You mirror his actions with your other hand.

“Yeah, like that,” he whispers softly in your ear and you can’t help but shiver a little. You were starting to regain your focus, but the feeling of his warm breath is definitely a distraction. “Last, the way you’re cutting isn’t good.”

One hand covers the one holding the knife again and he chops against the board in a way similar to the way you were earlier. “Like this is bad.” Then he makes another cut, this time he has you press the tip down first then brings the rest of the blade down, then he lifts it up again in a kind of rocking motion. “You wanna do it like this.”

“O…kay.” Is he doing that sexy voice thing on purpose, or does it just seem like it because he’s standing right behind you? Either way, your heart is starting to thump increasingly louder in your chest.

He guides your hands back over to the onion and carefully starts to cut it. The hand holding the knife feels a little weird, but you definitely feel in more control of the blade than you did earlier. After a couple slices, Saeran pulls his hands away, wrapping them around your waist. You hesitate without his guidance but he urges you, “Keep going.”

There he goes again with that blowing his breath in your ear thing. If he keeps doing that, you really might end up accidentally cutting yourself because you’re so distracted with his ‘help.’

You take a deep breath and continue doing what he showed you. This actually does seem better. You could almost say it’s easier if it weren’t for Saeran whispering insanely seductive sounding encouragements in the shell of your ear. It’s not that you don’t like the encouragement, but the way he’s doing it has you feeling all hot and bothered.

When you’re finally done cutting the onion, you squirm in his grip, turning your entire body so that you can face him. You’re just about to tell him how much of a distraction he was, when he gives you a smile, “You did a good job.”

Somehow, his words catch you off guard. You glance back at the onion you just chopped up and despite a little unevenness here and there it actually doesn’t look half bad. “Th-thanks…”

“I think you deserve a reward for doing a job well done,” Saeran smirks with a smoldering look in his eyes. You think you know where this is going, but you’re starting to get really hungry now…

“Uh… I thought that the japchae was going to be my reward for working so hard,” you say slowly. Which is kind of true- there was a lot of satisfaction to be had in eating something you worked hard to help make.

“Then how about I get payment for teaching you how to use a knife properly?” It seems he’s not going to let you off that easily. He leans down closer to you, lips getting closer to yours with every second, until they’re hovering just above yours.

Still, you try to reason with him, but with him so, so close, it’s getting harder and harder to resist. “But… the food…”

“It can wait,” Saeran declares with a note of finality. He hungrily presses his lips against yours, pushing you against the counter. All thoughts of your desire to eat are quickly replaced for a desire for him and you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer. Saeran, desperate for a taste of you, presses his tongue against your lips, nearly forcing his way in. You open your mouth just slightly, just as eager as he is.

Eventually, you pull away, just far enough to catch your breath, but close enough for your lips to still brush against one another. Your stomach grumbles a bit reminding you that you still need to finish cooking. You glance back at all the vegetables you still need to cut. You aren’t even halfway done.  You turn back to him,  “…Saeran, the food…”

But the look in his eyes makes it clear he hasn’t quite had his fill yet. He licks his lips and murmurs in a sultry voice, “I told you; it can wait.”

You open your mouth to protest but he silences you with another searing kiss, using his tongue to convince that you should satiate this carnal hunger first. Fine. If that’s what he really wants you’ll give it to him.

You push against him, backing him into the opposite counter. Saeran’s hands drop from your waist to wander other parts of your body, sneaking a teasing hand beneath your clothes. His fingers hook around the band of your underwear and he starts to pull them down. Once they get down far enough, you shake out of them.

You pull your lips from his, trailing hot, messy kisses along his jaw and down the side of his neck. Deciding to use one of his little tricks against him, you nibble at the skin just a bit, Saeran’s breath hitches, his hands squeezing your ass in response. You gasp and Saeran takes advantage of this split second to flip you around, pinning you to the counter again.

Not wanting him to completely gain the upper hand, you press your hands to the countertop for a bit of leverage before lifting yourself up to sit on it. In doing so you pull yourself from Saeran’s grasp.

He frowns, clearly a bit miffed, “Hey…”

“It’ll be easier this way, don’t you think?” you tease, spreading your legs just a bit.

Saeran takes a step back his eyes traveling down your body. His lips twitch a bit, hands reaching down to undo his pants, but he only does enough to just free his cock from its clothy prison. It seems he’s not patient enough to go through the formalities of stripping completely, but you’re not really complaining.

He comes closer again, his hands sneaking beneath your clothes once more as he goes in for one more kiss. Your tongues tangle together as his hands grasp at your body desperately.

Finally, Saeran mumbles against your mouth, “Come closer…”

“Mmm…” You hook one leg around him and use it to pull yourself to the edge of the counter.

“…didn’t think you’d be so cooperative.”

“I’m hungry.”

“For what?” Saeran asks. “For dinner or…  me?

“Both.”  

“What if I said you could only have one right now?”

“What would you do if I said noodles?” you shoot back. “Come on now, please don’t tease me…”

Saeran pouts, “…then say it.”

“What?”

“Say that you want me.” He pulls you to the very edge of the counter with one hand and reaches down to grab his cock with the other. Saeran rubs it against your entrance as if to elicit the words from you.

“…Of course, I want you!”

Saeran makes a pleased sounding hum and thrusts up into you, causing you to gasp loudly. He pulls back a bit before shakily ramming into you again.

“Mmm… Saeran…” you sigh contentedly as he rocks against you in a steady rhythm. You raise one hand, tangling it in his hair before guiding his face back yours. Your lips find his, consuming them in a kiss as he starts to pick up the pace.

His hands grasp at just below your waist, anchoring you down as he pounds into you. With each thrust, a wave of pleasure rocks your entire body. You moan loudly, your mouth still pressed to Saeran’s.

He rasps out your name, hands sliding down to your butt, pulling you as close as he possibly can. Saeran hits you deeper and you pull your mouth from his to cry out, “Oh god!”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, shuddering with each thrust. Saeran’s movements start to become more rough as the tension inside you starts to grow.

You’re getting close, you can feel it. Desperately, you cling to Saeran, mewling in his ear. Begging him to go faster. Harder. He groans, gripping you tight as he tries his best to oblige.

“I… I’m close,” he murmurs low in your ear.  

“I… ah… I… “ you try to tell him you are too, between the moans, but it’s hard to get the words out so you just nod your head. You quiver, feeling like at any moment you could just burst.

Saeran presses his mouth against the crook of your neck, kissing it before he starts to suck at it. His teeth graze against you and that’s enough to finally send you over the edge.

All the pent up tension inside you releases  all at once as your orgasm hits. You let out a high pitched keen, your mind temporarily going blank from the intense feeling consuming your entire being.

You lean back against the cabinet behind you, feeling suddenly drained. Saeran collapses against you, wrapping his arms around your waist while he tries to catch his breath.

The two you sit like that for a bit until you notice the cutting board with all the uncut vegetables behind Saeran.

“….can we just order take out tonight…?” you plead, no longer having the energy to continue cooking.

“…seriously?” Saeran responds, though he doesn’t actually sound that annoyed since he’s got to be just as exhausted as you, if not more so. He thinks for a moment before he relents. “…Fine.”

“Yay~” you hug Saeran and flail your legs around excitedly.

“…I thought you wanted to learn how to cook.”

“I do!” you respond earnestly. “I mean, we still have tomorrow, don’t we?”


	4. if you stay (prompt: childhood/memories, reader insert)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a continuation of weird day.

The only person who ever comes to your room is Saeran.

So naturally, when a loud banging sound jolts you from your slumber, you can’t help but brace yourself. Night visits from Saeran have a tendency to be… strange. You’ve seen him at his angriest during the nighttime hours. He often comes to yell and use you as a verbal punching bag. However, some of Saeran’s nighttime visits have also been some of the most peaceful. There have been nights when he merely comes to observe you in silence, unsatisfied with the the feed from his camera for some reason or another. In the past, such visits were far and few inbetween, however ever since you discovered that sketchbook of his, you’ve been getting more visits of this kind. Saeran would come with his sketchbook in hand, drawing as he watches you with unreadable eyes.

But if the banging is any indication, tonight is not going to be one of those peaceful drawing nights. After a moment, the door bursts open and in walks an unfamiliar person. Their clothes indicate that they are a member of Mint Eye, which only serves to make you even more nervous. Partly because they’re a stranger and partly because once Saeran finds out someone else has come to your room, he is going to be pissed.

The believer calls your name in a frantic tone, “Please come with me!”

You do not move and stare at them warily. If you go and Saeran finds out you’ll be in hot water too. Noticing your apprehension the believer speaks again, explaining in a hurried tone.

“It’s Mr. Saeran! We can’t get him to calm down!”

You feel a flash of concern. Does that mean that there’s something wrong with Saeran? As much as you’d like to help, there probably isn’t much you can do for him. In fact, there’s a possibility that seeing you may aggravate him even further. “…why come to me? Why not go to the savior instead?”

The believer’s mouth forms a hard line, “Unfortunately, she is out on extremely urgent business and we cannot reach her. You are our last option.”

Your eyes narrow. You were not aware that she ever left Magenta. From what little you’ve managed to gather, anything that could possibly require her to leave the property was delegated to another high ranking believer while she remained here, the ever present dictator of this place.

“Please,” the believer pleads. “We fear what may happen if this continues.”

You sigh. It seems it can’t be helped. You can only hope that later Saeran will not punish you for this. It’s supposed to be for his sake after all. Slowly, you rise from your bed and head to the door. The believer bows and briskly walks down the hall toward Saeran’s room with you following behind.

As you get closer, you hear a familiar screaming, though there is also something foreign about the sound. The believer stops at the door and turns to you, bowing once more. “Please do what you can to calm him down.”

You swallow thickly, unsure if you truly will be able to accomplish what they desire of you. They unlock the door and motion for you to enter.

Once inside, the door shuts behind you and you have the feeling you won’t be let free until Saeran stops screaming. If he stops.

Saeran’s room is dark, barely illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the crack in the curtains. You can barely make out his form on the bed, writhing in pain as he screams.  It occurs to you that he didn’t react when you came to the room. Could it be that whatever is bothering him has him so distracted that he has yet to notice someone else has entered his domain?

You carefully make your way over to Saeran’s bedside, fearful that moving too suddenly will cause him to notice you and redirect his screaming at you. After a moment you finally arrive at your destination, where you make a discovery: Saeran is asleep. Or, to be more specific, he’s having a nightmare. And a rather terribly one at that.

“No… No!” he uncharacteristically weeps, tossing left and right. “Please… stop… mother!”

Mother? He must be dreaming about his past. You’ve never been privy to information about it, but if the scene before you is any indication, it must have not been good.

“I don’t know where Saeyoung has gone!” he continues tearfully. “Please mother… please don’t hit me!”

Your heart lurches painfully at his words. His mother hit him? Saeran lets out an agonized wail and you can only imagine what he must be seeing in that nightmare of his. He curls into a ball, clutching at his head, frantically murmuring how sorry he is over and over. Seeing him so unusually frightened and vulnerable makes your chest ache. Is this who he really is behind that arrogant and ill-tempered facade?

Being careful to not disturb the bed too much, you sit down on the unoccupied side. Since he’s sleeping you don’t know how to begin to soothe him. You scooch a little closer toward his back and tentatively reach out for his shoulder. Saeran suddenly stops moving and you freeze, afraid that that mere action may have woken him up.

“S-Saeran?”

He whimpers softly but the shivering resumes. He’s not screaming any more so at least it’s an improvement. You slide your hand down to rub his back gently, hoping that will help more.

“It’s okay,” you coo. “It’s alright… No one’s gonna hit you.”

The crying continues, but it’s noticeably quieter. You continue to rub and slowly but surely, Saeran stops shaking and his breathing evens out. He mumbles something, his voice far calmer than it was, though you can’t seem to make out what he’s said.

Seeing your task as complete, you start to pull your hand away, but just as you do, Saeran starts to whine loudly. Automatically, you put your hand back and he stops. A few minutes pass, and you try again, but this time he suddenly flips over so that he’s facing you.

You freeze. Has he finally woken up?

Saeran’s eyes flutter open and he stares up at you through beautiful, if not bleary eyes. It seems like he might still be half asleep. You sit perfectly still, afraid that any sudden movements will cause him to wake up completely leaving you to deal with a grumpy, if not angry Saeran.

“Why…” he mumbles sleepily. “…why are you here…?”

You hesitate, unsure of what to say. He’s obviously still groggy so you don’t think he’s entirely aware of what’s going on. “You were having a really bad dream.”

Saeran’s eyes widen in terror, looking as if he’s just now remembering the dream he had. Trying to distract him, you ask, “…are you feeling better now?”

He nods slowly, though he also still appears to be a bit shaken. This means you can probably go now, but you also feel a bit apprehensive about leaving him for some reason. You know you shouldn’t stay, though. If you do, when he does finally fully wake you’ll surely get an earful.

With a soft sigh, you rub Saeran’s shoulder a couple times, “I’m gonna go now, okay?”

Saeran’s brows furrow and he reaches out for your hand, whimpering, “No….”

You blink. No? Is he serious? “Saeran…”

For the very first time since he’s become like this he gives you puppy dog eyes, making no effort to hide the fact that he’s begging. Despite the fact that it’s a bit jarring to see him like this, admittedly it’s also kind of adorable. You try to imprint this image into your mind- there’s no telling when you’ll see this face again and that’s if you do.

“Stay,” he pleads. “Please.”

He’s using ‘please’? He’s either delirious from sleep or actually wants you to stay. You bite your lip, torn between staying or going. Do you really want to indulge this softer version of Saeran, knowing that in doing when you wake you’ll have to face his wrath?

While you debate, Saeran’s voice softly calling your name pulls you from your thoughts. Your heart skips a beat from the sound, so delicate,  so… full of love. He squeezes your hand just a bit and that’s it. You’re done. You can’t refuse him like this; you have to stay.

“Okay…” you relent, laying down down beside him, careful to not let go of his hand. “I’ll stay.”

He smiles and as drowsy as you begin to feel, you fight to keep your eyes open so you can enjoy this a little longer.

* * *

When Saeran finally wakes, it’s from the most tranquil and satisfying sleep he’s had in a very long time. He’s not so sure what was so different about the night before, but it doesn’t take him long to find out. Saeran realizes he’s something warm and heavy, and when he looks, he realizes that it’s you in his bed with him.

He doesn’t know how you got there, or even how you got out of your room, but he’s ready to give you a mouthful for overstepping your boundaries. How dare you come into his room, into his bed without permission?

But then he sees your face, and his mind goes entirely blank. The look on your face is so soft, so serene, that the thought of disturbing you feels wrong for some reason. And more than that, though he can’t explain why, seeing you in this state is soothing to him.

Saeran knows that he shouldn’t get soft on you. If he does, then you might start to get ideas, and that’s something he can’t have. Toys don’t think. He needs to yell at you, tell you get up and put you in your place.

At least that’s his intent until you softly whisper call his name.

Saeran’s body goes rigid and for a moment he thinks you’ve somehow woken up, but then you just mumble something incoherent and nuzzle closer to him. His heart begins to pound in his chest. Much to his surprise, he doesn’t hate the feeling at all. In fact, he could almost say that he likes it.

Maybe it would be fine to stay like this a little longer.

But only just a little.


	5. (not) business as usual (prompt: reunion, reader insert)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is the mini version of an au i cooked up for v's route and honestly the closest to a fix it fic as i could get, LOL. maybe one day i'll go back and expand on it but for now it's just this.

A young woman in her early to mid twenties.

Long, soft brown hair.

Pure, innocent gold eyes.

The demeanor of an angel.

You look in the mirror at the reflection of a girl you do not know. It’s always hard, always strange to take on the form of another person, to pretend to be someone you’re not. There’s some solace in the knowledge that it’s usually not for long, perhaps for an hour at most. You’ve heard of some others taking days and days to complete their tasks, being stuck in whatever form they’ve been assigned for all that time.

Fortunately, it’s usually not like that for you any more. You’ve been doing this a long time, so you know what to say and when to say it.

Usually.

* * *

When Ray wakes, it feels almost as if his entire body is floating. He feels disoriented. Confused. The last thing he remembers is the sound of someone desperately calling his name and-

An intense pain shoots up his spine, right into his head, distracting him from the memory.

Is this a sign that he’s better off not remembering?

There are so many terrible terrible memories he has that he wishes he could forget, but can’t. What makes this one so bad that it physically hurts to even try and think of it? A morbid curiosity tugs at him, but the lingering pain from before is stronger.

“Ray!”

He straightens up right away, all thoughts of the thing he can’t recall whisked away in an instant. That voice. He’d know it anywhere. Wildly, he searches for the source, finding it with ease.

“Ray!” you call again. The young man in question is named ‘Saeran’ however the files said that, if you were to assume this form, you were to call him ‘Ray’ and warned against using his real name. The girl you’re pretending to be probably doesn’t know it so using it would result in you outing yourself.

He scrambles toward you, a desperate and disbelieving look on his face. Your heart clenches at the sight. It’s clear that he must love this girl, and using her form to deceive him makes it that much worse. You hope that you can end this quickly.

Ray slows as he approaches you, slowly shaking his head. He call the girl’s name and hesitantly reaches for you, “Wh-what are you doing here…?”

You give him a soft smile, mimicking what her’s is supposed to look like, “I came back for you.”

The files say that the girl left the place they were both staying a few days prior to Ray’s death. Apparently, it was to help another man, who had been badly poisoned, escape. You don’t know for sure if she truly meant to return, however, their very last interaction could have given her very good reason to.

He blinks, taken aback by what you’ve said, “You… did?”

You nod, “That’s right.”

Ray stares at you in astonishment, “…Why?”

It’s obvious that he’s going to need some convincing. Slowly, you reach out to touch his face. He flinches, but, to your relief, does not pull away. You rub gentle circles over his cheek, “I couldn’t just leave you here alone.”

He inhales sharply, his eyes starting to glisten. You carefully look away. Handling tears is not one of your strong suits, especially when you are well aware that your target is not crying for you. Out of the corner of your eye, Ray quivers, looking a bit as if he’s trying to decide something. A moment later, he lurches forward wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m so…” he mumbles incoherently against you. “…so…”

The tone of that last one sounds off. You have a bad feeling about this.

Suddenly, Ray yanks himself away from you, and stares at you with hateful, but confused eyes, “Who are you?”

“Wh…what are you talking about?” you ask, feigning innocence. Crap, this isn’t good. Somehow, he figured it out, but you need to try and salvage this. Things will be easier if you can. “Ray…?”

“Who are you?” Ray repeats, his eyes narrowing. “I…I know you aren’t her.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t smell like her.”

Your jaw nearly drops. Smell? Smell gave you away? Something so miniscule isn’t covered in the files. You can’t believe it. Can ghosts even smell? You don’t even know, you haven’t tried. Either way, it seems ridiculous. But regardless, it’s probably useless to try and keep up this facade any longer.

With a sigh, you snap and the disguise disappears. You shoot Ray an apologetic smile, but his expression remains hard, “I’m sorry I tricked you, but… I had to.”

“Who are you? Where is she?” Ray demands.

“…I don’t know where she is, “ you tell him honestly. Information like that is usually relevant, so you weren’t given it. “As for me… I suppose you could call me a grim reaper. My job is to ferry souls to the other side.”

“What… do you mean…?” he asks suspiciously.

“I mean that you’re dead,” you say plainly. Although situations like this are rare, protocol is to explain if the disguise fails in hopes the ghost will understand and decide to follow you. “If you’re wondering why I pretended to be her… Well, I can’t drag a soul to the other side; they have to go willingly.”

“I see…” Ray says thoughtfully, then he stops and gives you a stunned look. You brace yourself for the inevitable question. “…Wait a moment, I’m… dead?”

“You probably don’t remember your death. Most don’t. It hurts to, for obvious reasons.”

Ray’s face scrunches up, but he doesn’t inquire any further. You wonder if maybe he tried to remember it earlier, most don’t ask if they’ve tried to remember once.

“…is she okay, at least?” he asks at last.

You think for a moment, “I believe so. Almost every related person in your file was marked as living.”

Ray rushes forward, and you take a step back in surprise. He looks at you hopefully, “Can you… take me to her?”

It’s not unheard of for a ghost to request to see their loved ones, especially given that in order to help them move on grim reapers like you take the form of someone the ghost loves in order to help them cross over. Seeing her might help him move on so you nod and extend your hand to him. Ray looks down at it before he hesitantly takes it.

You snap the fingers on your free hand and the two of you are instantly transported to what appears to be kitchen in a small apartment. The girl who you had impersonated appears to be humming quietly to herself as she cooks herself dinner. You look over at Ray, who watches her with a content smile on his face. He really does love her. You feel bad that he couldn’t be with her in the end, but you no full well that not everyone gets a happy ending.

“I’m glad she’s looks like she’s doing just fine…” he mutters, as he observer her, a tiny grin playing at his lips.

“…do you want to stay a little longer?” You know it might be a bit cruel to let him glimpse more of her life without him, but you have the feeling he may not be ready to leave yet.

Ray turns to look at you, his eyes sparkling, “…c-can I?”

“…you can, but be aware, that she can’t hear or see you,” you inform him.

“I’m alright with that,” he replies looking back toward her. You can detect the tiniest hint of sadness in his voice. “I just want to make sure she’s happy.”

“…alright then, we can stay until you’re ready to go.”

Ray gives you a tiny smile and nods, turning his attention back to the young woman. Deciding to give him a little distance, you settle yourself in a small corner of the room. Even though she cannot see or hear him, Ray seem perfectly content with watching her every move, smiling and chuckling quietly as she moves about the kitchen, humming her little song.

As you continue to watch him, you realize that you may have made a grave error in letting him stay. With each passing moment, it becomes more and more apparently that he does not want to leave her side. If you must be honest, the look on his face makes it seem like he’d be content with watching her just like this until the very end of her natural life.

It seems that this assignment will take much, much longer than usual.


	6. makings of a sweet delivery (prompt: sweets, oc)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first posted oc fic! i actually had one for a different prompt but i haven't finished it. oops. anyway, i've been a little shy about posting this one even though it's technically been done for a couple days. weeps. my poor cute but stupid kira.... anyway, there are references for kira's birthday fic, but i haven't posted it... soon though... SOOON.

“You’ve got mail.”

Kira looks up from her phone at Saeran, before her gaze slides down to the box in his hands. A smile spreads across her face as she hops off the bed to grab it from him, “Awesome! It’s here!”

As his girlfriend starts to open up the package, Saeran can’t help but be curious. The last time she received a something in the mail, it’d contained some lingerie. Given her reaction to it, the probability that this package will contain something similar seems low. However, with his birthday soon approaching Saeran can’t help but hope, even just a tiny bit.

“Ta da!” Kira holds up a box that was inside the package like it’s some kind of coveted prize. Saeran squints at it. The box has a bunch of uniquely shaped ice cream sandwiches on the side. “It’s an ice cream sandwich maker!”

“I see.” Saeran would be lying if he said he wasn’t the tiniest bit disappointed.

“Hey… what’s with that reaction?” Kira pouts at Saeran. “I bought this with you in mind, you know. I thought we could make some together.”

“With your cooking skills?” Saeran responds dryly.

Kira clears her throat a bit, “…this is just assembling the sandwiches. I’m sure it can’t be that hard.”

She’s got a point. As long as there’s no actually cooking involved she might actually be okay to make them. The pictures on the box make it look like the ‘makers’ are some sort of tubes with presses. Like she said, it’s basically putting everything together. Kira can’t possibly mess that up.

Saeran glances over to the big box the ice cream sandwich maker came in. That can’t have been the only thing in there. He feels a glimmer of hope as he asks, “Did you get anything else?”

“Mmhm.” Kira reaches in again, this time pulling out what looks like a bunch of pastel colored rubber cones. “Ice cream cone holders! You just slip them on top of your ice cream cone and it’ll keep any melted ice cream from dripping out the bottom and getting on your hands.”

“Huh.” That’s actually kind of useful. To be honest, he doesn’t mind licking his fingers clean when they get sticky with ice cream, but he could do without it dripping everywhere. “Okay, what else?”

“Popsicle molds!” Kira cheers.

Obviously, there’s a theme to Kira’s purchases. “…did you buy an ice cream maker too?”

Kira laughs a bit nervously, “I’m not that ambitious. I think I’ll start with popsicles and work my way up to the more advanced stuff.”

That’s probably a smart idea. Kira would definitely somehow end up making some kind of salty ice cream right off the bat.

“So tell me, what do you think? It’d be fun to make our own ice cream sandwiches and popsicles, right?” Her voice is excited. She really must have been looking forward to getting this package.

“Yeah. It would…” Saeran agrees softly. As pleased as he is that she got all of this stuff with him in mind, there’s still a tiny part of him that wishes she’d gotten something a little different.

Kira seems to pick up on this and tilts her head in confusion. “…what’s up? Are you still worried I’ll muck it up somehow?”

Saeran shakes his head. “No…”

“Then what?”

He bites his lip, unsure if he should tell her. But if he doesn’t she might pester him until he does. Saeran motions toward the neatly folded pile of clothes on her dresser. If Kira can’t figure what he means out, he’ll let it pass.

She glances over toward the direction he indicated. After a moment, her face turns bright red and she shakes her head. Seems she figured it out, “I-I wouldn’t buy something like that!”

“No? It looked nice, though,” Saeran remarks matter of factly. “And I got the impression that you ended up really liking it a lot in the end.”

Kira tries to say something in response, but just sputters out fragments of words and sounds, her face growing even more red. As mean as it is to think, Saeran’s kind of glad he mentioned it to her. Seeing her flustered like this is kind of cute.

“I… Mmm…” Kira ducks her head down and mutters, her voice nearly inaudible. “I…I’ll think about it.”

“Oh?” Saeran raises an eyebrow. He actually wasn’t expecting that.

“But I’m not making any promises!” Kira exclaims, her voice growing loud again. “So don’t get your hopes up!”


End file.
